


There's Gonna Be Trouble

by Shi_3



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: But We'll Have Fun, Control Issues, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Wants To Kidnap Leech, Explosions, F/M, Gambit Trying His Best, How To Be "The Cool Uncle", Leech Has Really Useful Powers, Mutant Politics, Mutant Powers, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trying To Steal From A Thief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_3/pseuds/Shi_3
Summary: After Apocalypse's defeat the world has only gotten more crazy. Many people continue to fear and hate mutants, and many mutants are growing more powerful and dangerous. As different individuals struggle for control in a changing world, we will see enemies become friends and friends become enemies. "The X-Men will grow and change, but one thing is clear. No matter what awaits us, terrible or wondrous, the X-men will always be ready. And of that, I am proud."  - Professor XTitle is a quote from Dorian Leech in S4:E5 "Uprising".
Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Remy LeBeau & Dorian Leech, Remy LeBeau/Rogue, Rogue/Scott Summers
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	1. Time To Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping to cause less trouble, Dorian Leech ran away to live with the Morlocks. Trouble won't leave him alone though.
> 
> There were only two episodes that featured the Morlocks and one(ish) that had Dorian Leech, so this is a quick refresher for the evo versions if you need it. Info taken from X-Men Evolution Wiki.  
> Dorian Leech's mutant ability allows him to generate an energy pulse that disrupts all energy fields surrounding him and suppresses the Mutant X-Gene. In the episode Ascension II, Rogue absorbs Dorian's power and uses it to shut down all of Apocalypse's technology and power and then turn it back on. Dorian looks like a normal human for the most part but he's very pale and green tinged. Spyke defended Dorian and his mother once, and then Dorian returned the favor later. He didn't have any more affiliation with the Morlocks in the series. Professor X gave his mother a card and invited Dorian to come to the Institute when she felt he was ready. Dorian is aged 12 in the series.  
> The morlocks live in the interconnected tunnels of the sewers. Callisto is their leader. Callisto possesses enhanced senses of sight (including night vision), hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Caliban is a mutant with the power to detect the location or presence of an X-Gene/Mutant. It does have some limits, as Caliban couldn't detect Magneto's location due to him being "too far advanced".
> 
> Translations-  
> Merde- Sh*t  
> T’es fou toi?- Are you crazy?

For days Dorian had been feeling it. Something _bad_. It wasn’t just him either. He could see it in the other Morlock’s faces, when they talked about sensing somebody around. A shadow following them when they went topside. Inhuman eyes watching them from the dark alleyways. Caliban said he couldn’t sense a mutant, but even he seemed...nervous. 

It was trouble, just around the corner. They could all feel it. 

It made Dorian’s head ache. 

Especially today, it had been nothing but a long migraine. He tried to ignore it. He’d been doing so well lately, he hadn’t used his powers in a week. He’d kept it inside. 

He could feel it building though. All the pressure. Everyone’s fear and his own powers, they were all starting to pound together inside his head. 

With every minute of the heated argument Spyke and Callisto were having, he could feel it getting worse. 

“We don’t need to be looking for any fights. Especially not with the topsiders as antsy as they have been,” Callisto growled.

“I’m not going to let this jerk just keep stalking everybody. It’s dangerous,” Spyke growled back.

“You don’t know what they want.They could be looking for a new home. A little caution isn’t a bad thing, _Spyke_.”

“I _am_ being cautious. Which is _why_ we should-”

“No. I already told you.”

“I can’t believe you aren’t concerned about this!”

“I am concerned. But that doesn't mean we need to-”

Dorian plugged his ears, hoping it would help. He didn’t want to lose control and let his powers activate. It made things _awkward_. They didn’t say anything, but the Morlocks didn’t ever seem to know how to feel or how to act when their powers were suddenly taken away. Sometimes, they seemed relieved. Sometimes, they’d hang around while trying to seem like they weren’t. It didn’t last long though. Eventually, the longer his powers were on, the more the Morlocks started to avoid him. 

That hurt more than the migraines.

Especially when he’d accidentally heard Spyke talking to Callisto, and Spyke started saying that maybe he should go live with Spyke’s Aunt and the X-men. It wasn’t a bad thought, the X-men were nice. But Spyke had been talking like he didn’t want Dorian around the other Morlocks. Like it would be better for them if he wasn’t around. 

Dorian didn’t want to be a burden, but he didn’t want to leave just because of his powers. Not again. 

He just had to...keep it together. Ignore the pain in his head and the anxiety twisting knots in his gut. 

Dorian closed his eyes. If he couldn’t see everyone looking so unhappy, it might help.

He wanted to tell them all it was gonna be ok. Just like his mom always had. That used to make him feel a bit better, just a little less scared. But...he wasn’t really sure he believed it. Not anymore. Maybe not even then. Besides, his mom had been wrong about other things. Like when she had said he wasn’t a mutant. He most definitely was. She had just been too scared to admit it. She didn’t want him to have powers. 

Dorian flinched when a hand gently curled around his shoulder. 

It was Lucid, holding a damp and crinkled box of old fries. 

Dorian unplugged his ears.

“You ok, Leech?” he quietly rasped. 

“I…” He wanted to say yes, but his head really did hurt. 

“Quiet!” Callisto commanded suddenly, raising a fist up and cutting Spyke and their ongoing argument off. 

A deathly silence fell on the group and the increased tension in the air made Dorian’s head throb. He winced at the stabbing pain and pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to relieve the pressure.

Callisto turned to Caliban. “Do you feel-”

He couldn’t hold it back. 

A pulse emanated from him. The pounding in his head seemed to erupt out, flowing over the Morlocks and stripping away their powers. Unnatural colors, painful protrusions, freakish appendages; they all faded away and left a small group of very normal looking individuals. Any one of them could walk the streets and no one would give them a second look. 

They didn’t have electric lights down here in the tunnels, just the torches, so Dorian’s power didn’t plunge them into darkness like it would have topside. Dorian wished just a little bit that it was dark though. It would mask the looks on everyone’s faces. The mix of intense relief and horror as they looked at themselves and each other.

Guilt made the anxious knots in his stomach tighten. It made it hard to appreciate the loss of the harsh headache he’d been dealing with for days.

The only one who didn’t look upset was Caliban. He just traded a glance with Callisto and slowly shook his head. Callisto looked at Dorian, her uncovered eye narrowing.

She was disappointed, he knew it. No one ever liked it when he used his powers. Even when the X-men had asked him to help, they hadn't wanted _him_ to use his powers. Just to give them to the other mutant for a couple minutes. That's the only reason his mom said yes. She was always so upset when he used his powers.

Dorian wanted to run when Callisto took a step towards him. He wanted to hide. He covered his face with his hands instead. 

“I’m s-” he began.

“Dorian,” she cut him off, but he could hear she was trying to not be scary. Which was hard for her. 

He spread his fingers, chancing a look.

She looked like his Mom did, back before he left. Worried and frustrated. Scared. His fingers slid closed again.

“Dorian, I think there’s someone trying to access the tunnels. Probably that stranger that’s been hanging around lately. I need you to switch off your powers for a minute so we can know for sure. Just to make sure there’s no trouble,” she explained.

Dorian shook his head, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t stop it.”

“Dorian, look at me,” Callisto said.

He didn’t want to, but he slowly spread his fingers.

She reached up and gently took his hands in hers. “Can you try?”

He bit his lip and nodded, his stomach still twisting with guilt. 

He did try. He really did. He closed his eyes and _concentrated_.

He had turned it off before. At least, he thought he did. Back when he first came here and he couldn’t stop his powers. They had lasted a week before he had finally snapped them off. A whole week before the pain of being avoided had overridden the pain of holding his powers in. 

He tried to go back to the memory, the feeling of when he had cut off his powers and pulled them back inside his own skin. 

Distantly, he heard Callisto say she was going to check out the perimeter with Caliban. 

Dorian didn’t know how long he sat there, with his eyes closed, trying to stop using his powers. It was another hand on his shoulder that pulled him from his own thoughts. This time it was Spyke looking down at him. He seemed a lot younger without the thick plating around his face and shoulders. 

“C’mon,” he said, holding one of the torches in his other hand. With a hand on Dorian’s shoulder he steered him up and away from the table. 

“Where are we going?” Dorian asked as Spyke herded him out of the main tunnel.

“Topside.” He was trying to not sound worried. But he was. Dorian could see it in his eyes. It seemed so obvious without all the plated armor around his eyes. 

“Why?” Dorian asked, trying to not sound worried either. 

“I think you’ll be safer up there.” He glanced back at the others and said lowly, “And I think they’ll be safer with their powers right now.”

“Oh.” Dorian focused on his feet. 

“It’s just a precaution.” Spyke said, squeezing his shoulder in a way that was supposed to be comforting. “I just...don’t have a good feeling about all this.” 

Spyke’s anxiety only seemed to get worse the farther they went. Dorian tried to ignore it, but it got more distracting the farther they traveled up the tunnels. He started pausing and looking around, almost like he was lost, but Dorian knew Spyke had these tunnels basically memorized. It was making it hard to concentrate on pulling his powers back in, but Dorian kept trying. He didn’t want to go topside. If he could stop his powers here, he could go back and wait with the others instead.

It wasn’t until they began walking through the waterways that Dorian understood what might be making Spyke so tense. He suddenly heard it too. Extra splashing. An echo, following them.

Spyke suddenly pulled them to a stop. There was a distinct splash behind them, and then nothing but the ringing echo.

Spyke seemed strangely relieved. Unlike Spyke, Dorian wasn’t reassured by the fact that someone was following them.

“Spyke?” Dorian whispered, his heart suddenly pounding.

“Stay here,” he murmured. “I’ll be back.” 

“Spyke, I don’t want to be alone,” Dorian whispered urgently. 

“I’m going to take care of this. Stay here.” Spyke said with determination, walking away with the torch.

“Ok,” he said softly, hands coming up to tangle anxiously in the bottom of his shirt, as the light bobbed away.

He trusted Spyke. Spyke had saved him before, after all. Dorian knew he could fight. 

It was really hard to watch him walk away with the light though, especially when he looked so much smaller without his plating and spikes. 

When Dorian was left in darkness, hearing the faint echoes of Sypke splashing away, he closed his eyes. Spyke needed his powers back. 

Dorian flinched when he heard a loud splash. It echoed strangely. Then...nothing. Nothing but the sound of the running water underneath his feet. 

Heart in his throat, he closely watched the darkness and tried to focus.

When his powers clicked off, he felt it. There was the slightest pressure beginning to build up in his skull. 

He also saw it. In a pair of red eyes that suddenly appeared in the dark. Right in front of him, watching him.

“Hello?” he squeaked out, terrified.

“Bonjour,” a low voice rumbled from the dark. A voice he didn’t recognize at all. It didn’t sound like anyone he had ever known. 

He ran. 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going in the dark, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he run away as fast as possible, because he was in _trouble_. 

Dorian knew he was making too much noise. He was breathing too hard and he was splashing the water too much. He’d be easy to follow, even in the dark, but panic demanded speed over stealth. He even fell once or twice in his haste, soaking himself in the cold water. Maybe it was more than twice. It was hard to remember when all he could think about was getting away as fast as possible. 

He climbed a steel ladder somewhere, being distantly aware of the fact that his fingers weren’t working so well. He almost fell again. Somehow, he found himself at the top of the ladder and climbing into one of the long pipes. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten here, but he recognized it. There was a manhole cover somewhere close to the other end of this pipe. A way out to the topside. He crawled slowly, trying to be quiet. 

He’d be glad, but the topside wasn’t so safe either.

He paused halfway through. His fingers twitched nervously. 

He hadn’t been topside alone since he had gotten here. Well, he had never really been alone before then either. He’d always had his mom with him. Even before he got his powers, he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere alone. It had always been a distinct possibility that someone would try to hurt him on the topside.

He clutched at the stitch in his side and tried to breathe quietly, listening hard for any sounds. 

If he had to choose, he’d go topside, but he had to be sure that was his only option first. Maybe he had lost that guy. He couldn’t hear anything. 

It was right when he thought he truly might have escaped, those red eyes appeared at the entrance of the tube. Watching him. 

He couldn’t help the choked squeak that escaped him. He also couldn’t help the pulse of his mutant abilities from escaping. 

As he ran from the pipe he heard a throaty laugh from behind him. It spurred him to a speed he didn’t know he had. He basically flew up the ladder to the topside.

The manhole cover slowed him down though. With something almost like a sob, Dorian pushed mightily at the heavy lid. It felt like a small eternity before it moved and he could scramble out of the sewers and onto pavement. Terrified by the loss of time, he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

It took him too long to realize that he was in trouble again. 

He hadn’t even noticed, but he was powering down the lights all around him as he ran. Other people were definitely noticing though. They were getting on their phones. Probably calling the police. Some of them started to shout after him.

“Mutant!” one of them screamed. 

He ran faster, pushing through the pain in his side, in his lungs. Gasping harshly, tears began to well up in his eyes. 

He really wanted his Mom. Even if she wasn’t right, even if this wasn’t going to be ok, he really wanted her here to say it.

Something snagged his jacket, pulling him to an abrupt halt. Then it _pulled_ and he was skidding back on the pavement, rolling with the momentum and tearing up his hands. 

He choked when a sudden blow to his ribs flipped him over on his back.

A human man glared down at him, mouth contorted into an ugly snarl. 

“Where’re you going, Mutant?” the man spat from above him.

“Help!” Dorian screamed. 

“You think you can do whatever you want to our city? I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!” he yelled, stomping after him as he tired backpedaling away.

“Mom! Please!” the human raised his leg, hatred in his eyes as he prepared to kick Dorian again, “ _Help!_ ”

A metal staff appeared out of nowhere from above him, hitting the human in the chest. With a pained yell, he was knocked back. 

Callisto. 

Dorian had never felt so relieved in his life. He scrambled back until he hit her boots, keeping his eyes on the irate human. Her trench coat swayed around his shoulders and he reached out to clutch at the edge. 

“Ya ok, petit?”

Dorian froze at the very un-Callisto voice and slowly looked up. 

A scruffy beard. Two amber eyes.

Not Callisto.

The guy chuckled at the look on his face, his eyes crinkling as he smiled in a way that _almost_ made Dorian want to smile back. He released the coat and gaped instead.

The guy ruffled his hair playfully and focused back on the angry human. He poked him again in the chest with his metal staff. 

“Merde, you hittin’ a kid? T’es fou toi?” he said, looking at the human with disapproval. 

Dorian stiffened, recognizing the voice from the sewers.

“Stay out of this!” the human snarled, smacking the staff away and rubbing at his chest.

“Can’t do that,” he drawled. When he side-stepped Dorian and stood firmly in front of him, Dorian knew he should probably run again. But when he glanced around, he saw more humans. Watching and glaring. Probably wanting to hurt him. 

This guy might have amber eyes now, but Dorian knew what he saw down in the sewers. He was definitely a mutant. At this point, that made him a safer bet than any of these humans.

Especially the man in front of them. He was glaring like he wanted Dorian dead. He backed up a step when the mutant stepped forward though.

“That _thing_ is a mutant!” he said, jabbing a finger accusingly at Dorian. 

The mutant briefly glanced back at Dorian. He said, as he retracted his staff and tucked it away, “So he is. With those keen observational skills, ya must be a detective. Riddle me this, detective; what’s more dangerous than a mutant?”

“I- that’s not...I- _what?”_

“Ya don’t know? The answer is; two mutants.” He stepped right up into the man’s space.

“Two muta-”

“Two mutants. Him an’ _me_.”

“You?”

“What? I don’t look like one?” he drawled, sounding amused.

The man tried to push him back, looking a bit panicked, but he grabbed the human’s wrist and twisted his arm unnaturally. Until he squeaked. 

“So, I’m givin’ ya some advice you’ll wanna indent into ya thick skull. Don’t mess with the mutants,” he commanded, his frosty “I will kill you” tone almost scarier than Callisto’s. 

“Or what?” the human snarled, trying to yank his arm away. 

“ _O_ _r_ ,” he rotated the human’s arm, forcing the guy to fall heavily to his knees before grabbing the back of his neck and pressing his face to the pavement, “I make ya eat this street, detective. Catch my drift?”

“Ok, ok!” he yelled, struggling.

“Not as dumb as ya look,” he congratulated the human, standing back and letting him scramble to his feet. “Now, run along.”

“You’re going to regret this!” the guy yelled, pointing a finger as he backed away.

The mutant turned and looked Dorian over.

“I don’t think so,” he said. 

At the sudden sound of sirens he chuckled and his oddly gloved hand whipped out and grasped Dorian’s.

“Time to go,” he said.

Then they ran.


	2. Remy LeBeau, At Your Service

The kid was surprisingly fast. 

He looked like he was one nosebleed away from the wrong side of the grave, so Remy had figured he’d probably run like a zombie or something. However, the stint in the sewers proved that he wasn’t actually deathly anemic. That was just the look that had landed him with the Morlocks.

As surprisingly fast as he was though, he still had pretty short legs and he’d been running awhile. They were going too slow. 

He ducked them into another alley and crouched down in front of the kid. “Hop on.”

When he glanced back, the kid really didn’t look convinced that was his best option.

“You want the po po to catch us?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He figured that even though the police weren't personally his biggest concern right now, it might be the kid’s.

On the money. 

He looked less than pleased about it, but he gingerly clambered on.

“Allons!” Remy said cheerfully as he straightened. Then he started jogging. 

The whole power outage thing was making it difficult to shake the police, and anyone else who might be following, but with enough ducking and weaving he’d managed to get them to a sleepy little neighborhood unseen. No one to notice a power outage here. Lights were already off everywhere. 

Now he could focus on convincing the kid to leave the sewers and come with him. It’d take some finagling. The kid backed away as soon as Remy gently dropped him to the ground. He didn’t seem to trust him much. Smart kid. Good thing Remy had the chance for some heroics before. Maybe he could be forgiven for the fright he’d given the kid back in the sewers. With the look he was being leveled with though, he’d have to play it carefully. 

After giving him a good, quelling glare the kid looked around the dark neighborhood and frowned heavily.

“Where are we?” he asked quietly.

Remy glanced around. “Looks like…” he squinted hard at the street sign. He’d been finding it annoyingly inconvenient to not be able to see as well as he usually could in the dark tonight. Merde, he really couldn’t read that sign. “Franklin Avenue?” He tipped his head to the barely visible street sign. 

The kid pouted and said with agitation. “I don’t know where that is.”

He shrugged. “I’m not so sure myself, petite.”

The kid gave him a flat look. 

He raised an eyebrow. 

They stood off for a long minute. Then a long _couple_ minutes. 

Remy was itching to start making tracks, every minute they stood here was pricey, so he was sorely tempted to make a smart remark. Just to get the ball rolling, but the kid seemed like the quiet sort. Needed some persuasion to speak his mind. Remy didn’t like it, but he stayed quiet and waited. 

“Were you in the sewers?” the kid finally burst out.

Remy nodded. 

“I was. Sorry I scared ya, petit. Can’t really help the way I look though,” he tapped a finger under his eye, “Right?”

Remy knew the kid would identify with that sentiment, being a Morlock. He looked like he wanted to agree but he glanced away and frowned. Probably because it was Remy who said it. He must still be a mite upset about being chased out of his sewer home. Fair enough.

The kid was quicker to speak again, probably not wanting to dwell too long on their similarities. 

“You did something to Spyke,” he said, trying for an accusation, but he made it sound more like a question. Like he was allowing him the chance to deny it, maybe hoping for one big misunderstanding. 

He could deny it. It’d be a lie. A bad one, but the kid might let him get away with it for a while. He seemed like the honest sort. The honest ones always wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But, no, this situation called for a bit more finesse. He needed to play the long game here. Instead of a hastily constructed lie, he needed some well placed honesty. If he was going to come out of this on top, he had to load the dice, make sure this all rolled just right. 

Remy nodded again.

The kid’s eyes widened and he stepped back.

Remy waited.

“Did you kill him?” he whispered, with some horror. 

Remy chuckled at that. Lucky for the former x-man, Remy had found himself without powers right then. If he had his powers then Spyke would have woken up with more than a sore head. If he had a head at all. Not that Remy was _supposed_ to kill anyone, but nowadays it was getting hard to hold anything back. Kid had good instincts.

“Non. Just hit him over the head. He’ll be fine,” he reassured. 

Probably. Remy had made sure to leave him lying face up, but it was possible he could have rolled and drowned himself. The kid didn’t really need to know all the sordid details though. Just a choice couple. Just enough to get him on board with the idea of an impromptu adventure with a scoundrel.

“Why?” the kid asked suspiciously.

Here it was. The delicate operation of choosing a choice pair of truths and using them to jiggle open the lock of trust.

“Ya seem smart.”

He waited for the kid to react to that. He still looked pretty suspicious but he slowly nodded. Remy crouched down so he was on the kid’s eye level. 

“Then I’ll tell ya why.” He lowered his voice slightly, “Ever heard of someone named Essex?” 

“No.”

Remy glanced around, like he was looking for somebody, before turning back to the kid. His nervous glance made the kid shift uncomfortably on his feet and glance around nervously too. 

“Well, he’s heard of you. And he’s not a good guy. You know what else they call him?”

The kid shook his head. 

Remy leaned in close, like they were telling ghost stories to each other and whispered, “Sinister.”

Coming out of someone else’s mouth the name might have sounded dumb. He knew the way he said it though, it held the proper warning. Carried the right sort of weight. He nearly made himself shiver when he said it. Honestly though, it was just calling a spade a spade. Remy knew a lot of less-than-saintly people, but even out of all those Couillons not one of them was quite as unhinged as Essex. He really was a special sort of perverse. 

The kid looked at him with wide eyes as he whispered back, “Sinister?”

Remy nodded slowly. Seriously.

“He want you, petit. Bad.” 

“Me? Why me?” he asked defensively, looking spooked. He folded his arms up and hunched his shoulders. Slightly shifted his weight around, like he was about to run.

Remy could practically hear the click of a tumbler. Sometimes, honesty really was the best policy. 

“Your powers. Pretty useful. He made me come to get you.”

Well, he’d been sent to scout out a couple of useful mutants among the Morlocks. Drag the best ones back. But this wasn’t about them. They weren’t going to be able to help him like this kid could. If this kid could help him, then he didn’t ever need to go back to Essex. They’d all be better off that way.

The kid backed up a half step and glared at him. “Made you?”

Time for that second tumbler. 

“Got kicked out of home, me,” he said with a rueful, weary grin. “Caused a bit too much trouble with my powers. They’ve been getting dangerous. Got some control issues. Don’t want to hurt anybody. He said he was gonna help me.” 

That sentiment seemed to strike another chord in the kid, but he took his time thinking about it. Looked at Remy real hard, and Remy could see wheels turning in his head.

“So what are you gonna do now?” he asked flatly. “You going to try and take me to him?”

Remy nearly grinned at the challenge in his tone. The faint “try it” warning. Kid had a spine. He could work with that.

“Non. Like I said, mon ami, don’t want to hurt anybody. But I think _you_ can help me with that instead.”

“Me?” He sounded a bit incredulous. 

“You,” he said firmly. “Ya got suppressing abilities, yeah?”

He nodded slowly. 

Remy spread his hands with a flourish. “Exactly what I need.” 

Kid got a hesitant, almost hopeful look in his eyes. “You _want_ me to use my powers on you?”

Remy grinned and let the excitement of hitting that second tumbler seep through when he said, “Yes! What ya did in the sewers, it's perfect. You just the thing I need.”

He almost got a smile. Almost. 

One more tumbler, and he might just be in. 

He pointed a finger to him. “And _you_ need a new address.”

“Sinister,” the kid said, looking a bit wide eyed and green about the gills at the thought. Good. Remy let him stew in that for a few seconds.

“Exactly. I know him, petit, and he’s not gonna stop looking,” he warned. “But if you come with me I can keep you safe.”

He was spooked, but he seemed torn between being more spooked of Remy or of the unknown boogie man he’d painted. But Remy could almost feel it. Just needed the slightest nudge, and everything would fall into place.

“Listen, I take you back if you want petit,” he promised, waiting until the kid looked him in the eye to say, “But the Morlocks. He’ll hurt them.”

The kid stared him down for a long minute. Trying to catch the slightest hint of a lie in his eyes.

Eventually, he said quietly, “I don’t want anybody getting hurt either.”

“Think we can help each other then,” Remy said with a co-conspirator sort of smile.

He almost got a smile again, but the kid still had some business to hash out. He frowned instead, sternly, and folded his arms. 

A few more jiggles then. 

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked darkly. "You might just be trying to trick me into coming quietly. Or you could be crazy."

Remy gave him a serious look. "Good question. Bet your parents told you not to trust strangers, yeah?"

He nodded.

"Well, they right. But here, you take this as a little assurance." Remy reached into one of his pockets and picked out a fifty dollar bill. He showed the kid and his eyes got big. They got bigger when Remy put it in his hand. "Now you gotta way to run if you need it. Keep that safe, yeah?"

He nodded, eyes still the size of saucer plates, and zipped it into his inner jacket pocket. 

Looking a bit more confident he asked, "Where are we going to go?"

"Everywhere," Remy said with a laugh, "Can't stay in one place too long. He's got eyes a lot of places. You got anywhere you been dying to see?"

His eyes lit up, he even kind of fidgeted for a second he was so excited by the thought, but he hesitated to say it. "Maybe. I'll let you know. When I know for sure that I can trust you."

Remy grinned. "Sounds good."

“Ok," he nodded to himself. Then he demanded sternly, "You promise you won’t take me to Sinister?”

Remy raised a hand up and solemnly said, “Promise. We help each other now, yeah?”

The kid gave him a long, searching look and then stuck out a determined hand.

Click, and he’s in. 

Remy grinned and gave his hand a firm shake. “I’m good at running, yeah? I promise we stay a few steps ahead of Essex.”

The kid nodded. “Ok.”

“Ok,” he stood slowly, letting the blood rush back to his legs. “Hope you didn’t have anything important back there. We’re not gonna be able to go back.” 

Surprisingly the kid nodded and said, “You can’t say bye if they’re going to stop you from leaving.”

“Ya really are smart, petite,” he said with a low whistle of appreciation.

As they walked the kid kept giving him the side eye. 

“My name’s Dorian,” he finally said.

“Pleasure, Dorian.”

“What’s your name?”

“Me?” he gave a charming smile and said with a wink, “Remy LeBeau, at your service.”


	3. Right Things, Wrong Reasons

Rogue restlessly bopped her foot and twisted her hair around.

What could they possibly be doing in there? 

From the padded bench she was sitting on, she glared at the Professor’s office door. She’d been waiting forever for her scheduled visit with him. She’d had to wait last month too. Not as much as now, but she could sense a bad pattern developing. Because if Jean needed something, then the rest of them could go hang apparently. Heaven forbid Jean ever play second fiddle to anyone, after all. Rogue didn’t even get why Jean had to have monthly meetings too. It’s not like she didn’t have control. Jean wasn’t like her, after all.

Rogue suddenly wished she had a watch on her. Just so she could count up the minutes and demand that Jean pay her back somehow for each one. What a waste. She could think of a million other useful things she could be doing right now.

What did Jean need so much help with anyway?

Concern mixed in with the frustration and the previous anxiety of meeting with the Professor, and it all made her stomach twist unpleasantly. A vague sort of hope that everything was ok filled her, but it felt sticky and dirty with complicated feelings that she didn't want to unwind. She tugged at her hair and reasoned with herself that Jean would weather through it, whatever it was. Jean was just that good, after all. There probably wasn't anything really wrong anyway. There were plenty of reasons that she'd take longer in a meeting with the Professor. Maybe the Professor just liked talking to her better. 

She snorted to herself. That was a given, everyone knew those two had a soft spot for each other. But didn’t everybody have a soft spot for Jean? Besides herself, that is. Because Jean was nice. Pretty. Helpful. Practically perfect. Again, not much like her. Must be nice. To have basically everybody but Rogue love her. Who cared if Rogue liked them or not though? Her opinion had never had much in social market value. Wasn’t worth a lot.

Besides, Scott lov- _liked_ her. So, why would she care about anyone else’s opinion anyway?

“Hey, Rogue.” 

She smacked her head against the wall again, accidentally this time, and gingerly rubbed at her skull. Speak of the devil. 

“Scott.” She tucked her hair back self consciously as she looked at him. He looked tense as he approached. 

“You seen Jean? We were supposed to start a training session like 20 minutes ago.”

She scoffed. “She’s in there. With the Professor. My session was supposed to start forever ago.”

“Oh,” he looked concerned but said, “Is she all right? Jean?”

Rogue folded her arms and shrugged. Swallowed back a caustic reply and said simply, “Ah don’t know.” Perhaps with more vitriol than she had intended. 

“Right,” Scott said, a bit awkwardly. “Guess I’ll just wait here then.”

Trying to look casual, she scooted over on the bench. Almost falling off the edge she was hugging it so tight. She didn’t want the possibility of him brushing against her skin to be a deterrent though. 

When he gave her a grateful smile and sat on the other end, she let a smile flash across her own face and tucked her hair back.

“What ya doing for your lesson?” she asked.

He perked up, significantly, and began to gush out, “We’ve been working on a new danger room sim for the New Recruits. It’s more like an escape room though. We want everyone to be more-”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind his red shades, but if she could then she was sure his eyes would be all big and glowing with excitement, rather than just glowing with otherworldly energy. She’d like to see it. With the way his entire demeanor brightened, how he took on almost a glow, she thought it might do something really nice to his eyes. Obviously, that wasn’t in the cards though, so she just smiled and watched as he threw his hands around as he explained his project. It was cute, how he got so excited about leading training groups and brainstorming battle simulations. Something warm started tingling in her stomach and it helped soothe all the twisting from earlier. She felt her smile soften to a degree that she would probably call nauseating, if she could see it. 

At the opening of the professor’s door Scott abruptly cut himself off and stood up, suddenly glowing with even more enthusiasm. 

That warm feeling in her stomach curdled and those twisted knots came back. 

“Jean!” he greeted.

Rogue tried not to wince at the almost squeaky note of excitement in his voice. 

Jean winced as she exited. “Sorry, Scott. Rogue. I know I’m late.”

“You all right?” he asked, suddenly doused with concern. He stepped forward, like he was going to personally go in and whale on whatever she’d been battling out with the Professor. 

Jean paused a moment before smiling and saying brightly, “Yeah. Of course. Come on. We shouldn’t keep the others waiting anymore. Sorry again, Rogue.”

Rogue waved her off and watched as they walked away together, standing just a bit closer than friends would. It would be easy for their hands to carelessly brush together like that. A familiar sort of ache started in her sternum. Yeah, must be nice. 

“Rogue,” the Professor said, tugging her out of her thoughts, “I’m very sorry to have kept you waiting so long. It won't happen again.”

“Whatever,” she said as she stood and folded her arms. “Ah don’t care.”

The words, again, held more vitriol than she had intended.

The Professor gave her one of those looks that he was so good at. The one that politely said she was full of crap, because he knew exactly what was going on in her head without even having to use his powers to look. She was just that obvious and predictable. Not that he was going to say anything about it. He was going to wait for her to _admit_ it. In the name of growth or something. 

She scowled darkly. Great, not even through the door and she was already feeling uncomfortably prickly and defensive. They weren’t going to make any progress today. Just like they hadn’t made any progress for months. She was hardly doing any better now than she had been before Apocalypse. 

The Professor’s look softened to something gentle enough to make Rogue prickle up even more.

“Rogue,” he started and she silently begged to be saved; knowing he was going to be all sensitive and stuff, and she was going to want to throw herself off the balcony because she didn’t know how to take it. Honestly, he should just smack her upside the head and tell her to get over herself. Not that she was prone to bending to that kind of gentle persuasion either, but at least it didn’t feel as threatening as the whole hand holding, heart-on-our-sleeves approach. She wouldn’t be afraid of crying with that kind of Logan-like touch. 

The Professor paused suddenly, getting that look in his eye, like he was listening to someone far off. Then he blinked and said, “I apologize Rogue. This will take another minute or two. We’re needed at the foyer.”

“What?” she asked, a bit flummoxed that her silent plea had been answered. She trailed after him as he wheeled down the hall. “What is it?”

There sounded like there was a commotion going on at the front doors.

“You need to calm down, pincushion,” Logan growled.

“I _need_ the professor!” Spyke yelled.

Rogue blinked with surprise at that. Spyke was around more after helping them with Apocalypse, but he was still living with the Morlocks. Wasn’t often he came here. It was even less often that he sounded so panicked. 

“Calm yourself, Evan,” Storm said.

“Auntie O, you need to get him now! I-”

“I’m here, Evan. What is it?” the Professor announced as he entered the foyer.

“Professor,” Rogue had never heard Spyke sound so relieved. Then his face fell and he swallowed thickly. His giant, plated shoulders sank and he hung his head. “Professor, I- I lost him. I lost Dorian.”

“What do you mean lost, Evan?” the Professor asked gently.

“Gambit,” Spyke spat out. 

Rogue twitched at the name. Been a hot minute since she’d last heard it. 

“He attacked us in the tunnels. He jumped me and Callisto and Calliban. Knocked us out cold and when we woke up Dorian was gone! We’ve been looking but we can’t find him! Gambit took him. Professor, we have to find him. Please.” He looked like he was about to cry. Rogue had never seen him like this before. 

Storm and Logan shared a look. Logan growled low in his throat.

Rogue folded her arms and scowled, trying to look angry instead of worried. Or shocked. 

What was that Cajun fool doing?

“All right, Evan,” the Professor said. “Come with me.”

Rogue trailed after the group as the Professor led them to Cerebro, hoping nobody would question why she was coming along. It was a bit questionable though. Out of the X-men, she’d had the most contact with the kid, but that had just been a tense helicopter ride and a quick zap before going off to fight Apocalypse. She didn’t know Dorian. She supposed that didn’t mean she was banned from caring though. Her interest didn’t have to be solely tied up with the _other_ mutant involved. 

The Professor put on his odd helmet and closed his eyes. After 5 minutes of the Professor sitting in concentrated silence Storm and Logan shared a _look_. Rogue didn’t like that look.

The Professor shook his head as he took off Cerebro. He glanced between Logan and Storm and said, “I cannot locate them.”

“How is that possible?” Storm asked with sharp concern. 

“A few ways. But I suspect we can thank Dorian’s abilities.”

“What? He shutting off your powers, prof? Kind of long range for a niblet,” Logan asked dryly.

“Not directly. But with his suppressing ability, if activated, then even Cerebro would have a hard time detecting his signature. Anyone’s mutant signature, if it was in his radius. I could look for holes within the net I suppose, but if it’s small enough I suspect it would be indiscernible. We would have to wait for Gambit to use his powers. I’d hate to play a waiting game, until we have exhausted our other options.”

“Nice. While you exhaust other options, _I’m_ going to go sniff them out. Then I’m going to rip that chuckle head's spine out and beat him with it.”

The Professor made a “please don’t” face, but didn’t say anything as Logan stalked off.

“Are we going to tell his mom?” Spyke asked quietly, looking disheartened and droopy.

Storm put her arm around him and pulled him close to her side, a sad look in her eyes.

“Though it will worry her terribly, this is not something we could keep from her in good conscience,” the Professor said. “Even if it is not good news, parents want to know how their children are faring.”

“I’m so sorry Professor. I knew I should have brought him here. After you asked me, when his mom called that first time. I just thought...I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Evan. I, too, thought it best for Dorian to stay where he was until the media’s scrutinizing eye was a bit less focused on this household,” the Professor steepled his fingers together, “Hindsight is 20/20, but the visions we paint for the future are usually unnecessarily grim. We cannot be certain that Dorian is in great danger. I confess, I do not know Gambit well. Perhaps I, yes...I should ask Magnus for some insight. He might be able to point us to where Gambit might take Dorian.”

“Professor, what do I do?” Spyke asked. 

“You should get some rest, Evan. I’m sure you have been searching tirelessly. Regain your strength and be ready for when we have more information.”

Spyke didn’t look too happy, but he nodded. 

“Come, I’ll make you something to eat,” Storm said gently. “Unless I can be of assistance, professor?”

He shook his head. “No, I need to make some calls. Thank you.”

She nodded and gently led Spyke away. 

Rogue shifted awkwardly on her feet, suddenly realizing how odd it was for her to be in on this particular situation. She didn’t have much to contribute. She felt like a spectator.

“Perhaps you have some insight into Gambit’s actions, Rogue?” the Professor asked calmly.

She twitched and then tucked her hair back. She must have looked confused, maybe guilty, because the Professor clarified, “Since you were essentially kidnapped by him as well. And there was a time his psyche was imprinted in you.”

She scowled. “Ah don’t know him all _that_ well.”

She wasn’t sure there was anyone who knew Gambit all that well. He was a slippery guy. He used suave and smiles like she used sarcasm and scowls, all in an effort to make sure people kept a safe distance away. She hadn’t felt an overwhelming need to cross over that boundary he'd drawn. Not since they'd parted ways. 

“Anything would be helpful at this time, Rogue.” The Professor actually looked like he thought she might have some kind of valuable insight. 

Well, she didn’t want to be useless. She closed her eyes, briefly searching for a crackling psyche that had faded off long ago. Honestly, Gambit’s psyche hadn’t made that much of an impression when she had knocked against him in the bayou. It had just been a rush of flashes and conflicted feelings about his plans to rescue his dad. After getting the whole “I’m using Rogue for her powers” impression, she hadn’t been too interested in examining any more of his thoughts. Strangely, his psyche had been quieter than Julian's too. Really, in their time together, she hadn’t learned that much about Gambit besides the fact that he had family issues and trust issues. Which she got all too well. She didn’t need another layer of _that_ in her mind. So afterwards, she avoided thinking about him too much. It seemed like it would just invite trouble. It went against her personal goal to not think too much about the rascal, but she’d done even more uncomfortable things for the Professor before. She delved deep, trying to dig up some kind of nugget that might be helpful. His psyche really was basically gone though. 

All she had was her previously established impressions. It wasn’t much, but there was one that she couldn’t shake. It’d stuck with her. It’s the impression that had made her turn around and help him with his scummy dad after she had walked away feeling betrayed. 

“Wrong things,” she finally said, opening her eyes to glare at the wall, “for the right reasons. He’s always doing that.”

“Thank you, Rogue,” the professor said sincerely. “Would you mind if we reschedule our meeting for tomorrow?”

She shook her head and followed him out the room. But while he went to his study, she made her way to her own room. When in there she opened her sock drawer and dug around until she found the purple and gold card lying at the bottom. She flipped it over and pursed her lips as she examined the double headed queen of hearts. 

“What _are_ ya doing?” she asked. 

The stern Queen did not answer but when Rogue looked at the black and red rose she held, Rogue could almost see an eye in it. An intense black and red eye that looked right into her heart and did not blink. Like always, it sent a pleasant shiver across her skin, as it dragged back the memory of a similar pair of black and red eyes. Eyes that had also seemed to look into her heart and not been bothered. In fact, they had burned with something like appreciation. No one else had ever looked at her that way, at least not at first. Those eyes did though, even the first time they had met. They hadn’t even said a word to each other. She’d just stared at him like a moonstruck idiot, caught up in his strange gaze, because it was like he was actually _looking at her_ . Not the makeup she carefully put on, or the loud clothes she covered herself with, or the surly attitude she shielded herself with. Just her, and then those eyes had brightened like he _liked_ what he saw. It’d been the same way in New Orleans. 

It was all an illusion though. A trick. That much had been obvious when she discovered that he had only sought her out because of her powers. 

Everything really was just a gambit to him.

She was just mad that she understood it as well as she did. Life wasn’t fair, after all. Some people had to fight for whatever scraps they could. She could only respect that he fought so hard. His recklessness in chasing after what he wanted, to her it seemed more like a bravery that she couldn’t see herself ever achieving. It seemed better than doing a half-baked job at right things for wrong reasons. 

“Idiot,” she muttered, throwing the card back into the drawer and slamming it. Not quite sure if she was talking to herself or to an absent Cajun.

  
  



	4. Laches Pas La Patate

Remy, Dorian was discovering, wasn’t scared of anything.

As Dorian watched the buzzing magenta spread farther and father across the floor he wished he could be more like Remy. He looked really calm as he sat across from Dorain, casually resting against the wall of the boxcar. The only indication he hadn’t actually fallen asleep was the way he was twiddling his thumbs around each other. 

Dorian took in a bracing breath and focused on the clear area around himself that had been slowly growing along with the magenta buzz. He coaxed it in, closer to himself, and let the buzz come closer. Even though it set his teeth on edge and made the hair stand up on his neck. 

If Remy wasn’t worried, then he could hold his powers back and let the magenta fill the boxcar. 

That buzz was getting louder though. More insistent. 

“Remy,” Dorian said, a low note of fear in his voice.

Remy’s hands stilled and he breathed in and out deeply before murmuring, “S’ok.”

Dorian seemed to have broken his concentration though. That buzzing took an even higher frequency and something made Remy’s face twitch. Something almost too fast to catch as it flashed across his face, but maybe something like pain.

“Remy,” the fear was a high note now. An embarrassing squeak.

That made Remy open his eyes, and the glowing red on black did nothing to help the fear beginning to boil in his gut. Remy’s eyes glowed more when he used his powers, and they were _glowing_.

Similarly to when they had first met, down in the sewers, the sight made Dorian’s power flood out.

The glowing magenta was swept away in the rolling wave, and when it hit Remy he let out a stuttered breath like it was a physical blow. It also took out the electric lantern they had and they were plunged into darkness.

Dorain heard a small sigh in the dark.

“Sorry,” he said miserably. They’d lasted five minutes. Maybe. If they rounded up. 

There was the telltale sound of a match striking, striking, striking and then flaring up in a warm glow.

Remy’s smirk wasn’t quite as warm, but at least he didn’t look angry. 

“It’s ok, Dorian,” he said as he reached for the candle beside him and tipped the wick to flame. As the candle lit up, he glanced at Dorian and something flashed across his face again. Something maybe a little bit like pity?

Dorian blinked and tried to not look...however he was looking. It’s just that, Remy didn’t use his name much. It probably didn’t mean anything, but with the bad feeling of failure already rolling around in his gut it made him feel like... even more of a failure. 

He scowled, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. He was about to apologize again, but then Remy made an exaggerated face of disgust, tongue sticking out and all, and held the lit candle as far away from his face as possible. 

“Pah, remind me to never get,” he frowned at the label for a moment, “ _baked cookies_ again. That’s _not_ what a cookie smells like.” 

Dorian was surprised by his own laugh, but the awkwardness was so neatly broken by the genuine disgust for something that was _not him_ , that he couldn’t help it.

Remy grimaced and demanded, “Can you smell this?”

Dorian crawled closer and took the candle away from Remy. He inhaled deeply and Remy made another face.

“It doesn’t really smell like cookies,” he said around another small laugh. It didn’t smell that bad, but definitely not like the smell that filled the house when he mom had made cookies at home. The smile quickly dropped away from his face and he carefully placed the candle between them.

“Need a gumbo candle or something,” Remy sighed, “That’s a good smell.”

“Gumbo?” Dorian asked. 

“Gumbo,” Remy sighed wistfully, leaning back against the wall again. “Best food there is.”

“What’s gumbo?” he asked.

“One cannot express the complex perfection that gumbo is with mere words, petit. It’s like tryin’ an explain a hymn with no instruments,” he looked off mournfully into the middle distance but when he noticed the puzzled frown on Dorian’s face he said, “It’s a soup ya serve over rice.”

Dorian was sure he only looked more confused.

“I know the _best_ recipe for gumbo. Had to take a couple wooden spoons to the knuckles for sneakin’ into the kitchen, but it was worth it. When we get to Louisville I’ll make it.” 

Dorian’s eyes widened at that and he unconsciously shuffled forward with excitement. 

They’d been on the move ever since Remy had swept him up from the sewers. Never in the same place for more than a few hours. Consequently, food had been very far from home cooked. 

“Where are we going to stay?” His eyes lit up with sudden excitement, “Are we finally going to stay in a hotel?”

After two weeks of slumming it at night in abandoned or vacant places, ones that no one would notice the power going out, Dorian was ready for more creature comforts again, like tv. 

A sly sort of smile made Remy’s eyes almost seem like they were glowing again. “Maybe. If you can hold that foot perimeter by the time we get there then we’ll rest up somewhere nice.”

Dorian made a face at that and Remy chuckled.

He kicked his legs out and casually leaned back against the wall again. His eyes drifted shut and he said with a smirk, “Take your time. Lache pas la patate.”

“What’s that mean?” Dorian asked as he criss-crossed his legs and linked his hands together, “La- lache, uh…”

“Lache pas la patate?” Remy grinned and then tapped out a quick beat with his foot as he sang out, “Laches pas la patate. Une chose qu'est claire, j'fais mon affaire et j'lache pas la patate.”

Dorian nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Lache pas la- la…”

“La patate,” Remy said, saying it slowly.

“La patate,” Dorian said back, just as slowly. He felt his cheeks heating up when Remy grinned at him like he was cute or something. He scowled a bit and said firmly, “Lache pas la patate.”

It didn’t sound exactly the way Remy said it, but Dorian thought it probably sounded close enough. Close enough that Remy didn’t have to look at him like he was a baby saying it’s first words. He felt his cheeks heating up even more though when Remy's expression shifted into something more serious and he nodded with a firm, “Nice.”

He ducked his head in embarrassment and pulled at the wrinkles in his jeans. He warily looked back up when Remy said, “It means ‘don’t give up’. Lache pas la patate.” 

Dorian nodded slowly as he absorbed that.

“Hey.” Remy said, and waited until Dorian looked him in the eye to firmly state, “You can do this, Dorian.”

Dorian tried not to squirm, but the warm and tingly feeling that rushed over him at that sincere statement almost tickled.

“Y-yeah.” He nodded and interlocked his fingers. “Ok.” He inhaled a steadying breath and let his eyes drift shut. They’d discovered that keeping his powers on but pulling them back was more difficult than just shutting them off or flipping it on. It wasn’t that hard once he just flipped the switch inside of himself, but trying to shape it was hard. If he listened close enough, if he focused enough he could sense it though. A certain sort of vibration in the air around him. If he went to the edges of it he could take hold of it and slowly coax it back.

When the buzz of Remy’s powers began it threatened to break his concentration. His was a higher, more insistent frequency. Louder than Dorian’s powers. 

He wanted to open his eyes, just to check to see if it was as close as it felt, but he breathed out slowly and focused back on his own power. It was harder to feel his own powers with Remy’s all around, but if he listened close enough he could hear it beneath the static-like noise. An echoing sort of pulse. More of a thrum than a buzz. If he focused on that sound then it was easier to feel it in the air around him. It reminded him of being in a pool, but a choppy one. One where you had people jumping in from both sides, and the waves created felt unpredictable. A pool seemed like a bad sort of visualization though. You couldn’t pull pool water back or mold it into a certain shape. 

He sat there for a few moments, his brow furrowed and then began to think maybe that it had less to do with manipulating the waves and more about how he poured it out. Less like a light switch and more like a tap. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from inside of himself though. Or how to pour it out differently. Maybe if he-

“Dorian!” Remy snapped, an uncharacteristic note of urgency in his voice.

His eyes flew open and the entire box car, all except a few inches around him, was glowing like there were inside of a ruby.

With a gasp his powers flooded out, extinguishing the urgent glow. He blinked, his eyes trying to adjust to the simple light of the candle.

Remy was hunched over himself, panting lightly. He dragged a hand over his face and sighed. He sounded...upset.

“I-”

“My bad,” Remy said, forestalling him, another uncharacteristic note of frustration in his voice. He gave a strained smile and forced a lighter note into his tone. “Ya looked like you were doing good.” 

“Maybe,” he hedged. He wanted to ask how long that was, but he didn’t want to say something that would make Remy feel bad, “Should we...should we try again?”

“Let's take a minute, yeah?” Remy said, still sounding strained. Still frustrated.

“Ok,” he said softly. He watched Remy carefully as he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cards. As he ripped the plastic off Dorian wished that he knew how to make him feel better. 

Remy glanced up at him and then a small smirk upturned his lips. “Ya ever play Find The Lady?” He gripped his new cards in one hand and with a crisp sound they flew into his other hand. He cut the deck with one hand, flipping the cards around with his fingers.

With wide eyes Dorian scooted close, watching as Remy made patterns in the air as he shuffled the cards. 

“Three cards,” he said, sliding the top three off of the deck. He turned the cards to show a seven of spades while the other cards disappeared into his pockets. Then he let the seven slip away and flutter to the ground face down, showing a six of clubs behind it. “You only care about one.” The club card was dropped as well, showing the Queen of hearts. “The Lucky Lady.”

Remy placed the last card gently on the ground between the other two, face down. Then he began to slowly shuffle them to different places.

Dorian watched with rapt attention. 

“Watch the cards,” he murmured. “Watch the cards.”

He stopped suddenly and then spread his hands with a grin. “And now you find the Lady.” 

“Um,” his hand hovered over the card on the far left and at Remy’s encouraging nod he flipped it over. He knew he shouldn’t feel so good seeing the Queen, because it hadn’t been hard, but he couldn’t help but grin. 

“Nice.” Remy flipped the card and shuffled them again. Going a little bit faster. “Gets faster. Think you can do it?”

Dorain scoffed a little, carefully following the cards. “Yeah.” 

“All right then,” he stopped and spread his hands out again, “Where’s the Lady?”

Dorian flipped over the middle card and smiled when the Queen stared up at them. 

Watching Remy shift the cards around was almost relaxing. He wasn’t quite sure how many rounds they did by the time that Remy was moving too fast for him to guess where the queen ended up, but by then Remy seemed happy again. 

“All right. Let’s do this,” he said, tucking his cards away. 

Dorian thought he might be imagining it, but as Remy leaned against the wall he thought that he might be a bit nervous though.

“Remy,” he said.

“Yeah?” 

Dorian waited until Remy looked him in the eye and solemnly said, “Laches pas la patate.”

Remy actually laughed at that, and Dorian would have bristled at it, but it seemed more like he was charmed rather than amused. With a wide, warm grin he echoed back, “Laches pas la patate, petit.” 

Dorian smiled and closed his eyes, thinking about pools and how you would go about pouring out their waves if you could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Laches pas la patate: Don’t give up, but the literal translation is “don’t drop the potato” (which I probably think is way, way funnier than it is)
> 
> Laches pas la patate. Une chose qu'est claire, j'fais mon affaire et j'lache pas la patate: Do not drop the potato. One thing that is clear, I'm doing my thing and I don't let go of the potato  
> [This is the song that Remy is singing. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB4GtsNvykg&ab_channel=franktremb)
> 
> Sidenote:  
> I have never smelled any sort of "baked good" candle that I have actually liked and I am totally, one hundo percent taking this as an opportunity to project my feelings. Also because, I am very entertained by the thought of Remy trying to pop into some store real quick and sweating and ducking around trying to buy food for a kid and like he's never had to feed a kid before and the kid's no help because he can't make decisions and only wants candy but that seems questionable and he wishes he could just cook and oh yeah he should probably get a candle because he can't actually see when the kid's powers are on, but there are like _so many candles_ and he's sweating and just throwing in maybe ok sounding candles in and just like 'I do not have time to smell all of these, but look 'baked cookies', praise be I am saved' but, in fact, _he wasn't._


	5. What's up, Danger?

“Remy.”

He didn’t turn or acknowledge the timid little voice that sounded seriously freaked out. To be fair though, the kid sounded freaked out a lot of the time.

“Remy.”

There was a desperate edge to the kid’s voice now, but he ignored him.

“Remy, it’s _slimy_.”

“It’s _okra_ ,” he said. “And that’s why we’re frying it. Give it a minute.”

He finally turned to look at the kid, whose face was pinched up in disgust. “I- I don’t wanna eat that.”

He gave him a dazzling sort of grin and said confidently, “You will. How’s that roux coming? You stirring?”

“Yeah, umm. I-” he fidgeted on his chair, looking scared again. “I might have burned it.”

He hadn’t heard the stirring stop for long since he’d set Dorian to the task, so he doubted it, but he frowned anyway and said, “Told you we’d have problems if ya burned my roux.”

Remy let him wriggle around in discomfort for a moment before he turned down the heat on his okra and sidestepped over to peek into the pot. Looked like dark chocolate. 

“Nice,” he said with a smile. “Make a chef out of you yet.” When he looked up at the kid he was fidgeting again, but this time with a pleased sort of embarrassment. 

“Your arms tired?” he asked, though he already knew the answer to that question. It just kind of tickled him to see the kid straighten up his spine at the little challenge in his tone and try to pass off a fib.

“No,” he said, his wooden stirring spoon picking up speed and clattering more loudly against the sides. Kid was a bad liar.

“All right then.” He hid his smile by turning around and grabbing the bowl they’d filled with his diced onions. He tipped them into the roux and then grabbed the chopped celery and peppers. Very coarsely chopped, but at least there wasn’t one of Dorian’s fingers in there. He tipped those in too. 

Dorian gamely kept stirring, his face screwed up in concentration and a little bit of pain, as he folded them in. 

Remy threw in the garlic and said, “All right. Your arms are gonna fall off. My turn.”

Dorian looked relieved as he stepped down from the chair and handed the spoon over. 

Remy stirred it up and then flipped his okra around too so it wouldn’t burn. Dorian was still looking at it suspiciously. He caught Remy staring and said, “I’m not eating that.”

Remy grinned and said “Ah, come on. Look. Not slimy anymore.” He tipped the pan so the kid could see.

He just made a face and shook his head. 

“Promise it’s good, petit.”

He shook his head harder, a stubborn look coming into his eyes.

“Just try one and if ya really don’t like it then we’ll do it your way,” he said as he speared one with a fork and held it out to the kid. 

His mouth thinned into a firm line. 

Remy knew how to charm the kid though. He just smiled real big and popped the okra piece into his own mouth. It wasn’t even an act when he let forth a stream of Louisiana French in praise. That always caught the kid’s attention, like most people he was easily charmed by an accent and foreign words. 

Remy speared another piece and bopped the fork around invitingly to the kid.

“Come on,” he wheedled. “Ca c’est bon!”

That stubborn line didn’t budge. It declared it wouldn’t be susceptible to any kind of gentle persuasion. Remy could see in the kid’s eyes that if he pushed it then it was going to be a fight. It’d quickly turn into one of those power struggles that was more about seeing who could make who do what than about eating okra.

It took an effort to keep the pleasant, placid look in his eyes and on every line of his face. The challenge in the kid’s eyes made him want to raise his hackles and prove something. To engage in a power struggle and take no prisoners, but blowing up and having the kid jump ship because of okra would be thickheaded. 

Remy just shrugged like he couldn’t care less and scraped it back into the pan. Some hands you just had to fold. 

An odd sort of tension filled the room as Remy focused on cooking though. 

But maybe it was just him. He wasn’t used to this, being all non-combative and peaceful. Not anymore anyways. Not since being with Magneto. 

Because Magneto was... _Magneto_ . Intense, dramatic, powerful, ruthless; that had been the draw in working for him but he had demanded the same of his Acolytes. In trying to play the long game of being Magneto’s best, of being indispensable, he had to push out his very best in some of the worst ways. Even more than his father had ever expected. With Magento he had to be ready to fight anybody, even kids. He had to be more ruthless, more conniving, more dangerous, more sharp, more _everything_ than he’d ever really wanted to be. Everything other than soft. 

He’d seen real quick when he joined Magneto that the harmless kid persona he’d perfected would just not cut it anymore. He needed respect, so he had to push “harmless” back and push “dangerous” forward. He tried to bury the accent, tried to lose the “cute” Cajun words, and he sharpened himself into something that _would_ cut it. Would cut anyone and anything that Magento asked him to. He turned himself into one of the most dangerous things that Magento had ever wanted. 

Magneto was extreme but he was right about a lot of things, like how the greatest respect came through fear. 

Remy didn’t need the kid’s respect though. He just needed his powers.

That became even more clear when the spoon he was holding suddenly turned magenta in his grip.

“Merde!” he spat out, startled. A spatter of gumbo hit the wall as he jerked the spoon out. 

Dorian appeared at his side, eyes wide with concern. 

He tried to will away the charge but it was like trying to swim against a current.

Dorian wrapped his hand around Remy’s wrist, a look of concentration on his face. He breathed out and Remy felt a vibration in his wrist. He almost ripped his hand away from the strange feeling, but he gritted his teeth and held still while it slowly traveled up his palm, locking his fingers into something like a death grip. 

He wasn’t sure he could hold the charge much longer, and he really didn’t want to be involuntarily clutching onto something that was going to explode. Dorian’s face was too close for comfort too. 

“Faster,” he grit out. “The spoon.” 

Dorian’s eyes widened and he released Remy’s wrist to grab for the wooden spoon.

Remy’s fingers went lax of their own accord and the spoon slipped away. 

Dorian made a grab with his other hand but just managed to knock it away. He lunged after it and Remy saw this ending terribly. He made a grab for him, intending to pull the kid away, but his fingers couldn’t seem to grip right still and he slipped right out. Falling to his knees and grabbing the spoon with both hands on either end, a high whine in the air.

“ _Dor-_ ”

A _crack_ split the air and Dorian flinched.

Remy felt his heart stutter. 

“Whoah!” Dorian said loudly. Much too loudly, but he didn’t sound hurt. He stood and turned around, holding two pieces of spoon with a look of amazement. He didn’t look hurt. 

“It cracked!” he said, stepping forward to show him.

He almost grabbed the kid by the shoulder but he couldn’t trust his own hands so he flinched away.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded as he just visually scanned for damage.

“No,” he laughed and lifted the broken spoon up farther, “Look!”

There was a little something on the kid’s shirt. Right on the chest. It almost looked like flour. 

A broken spoon handle was shoved up in his face. He was about to snap at the kid that he didn’t care, but his words dried up when he saw the damage. It wasn’t a clean break. The edges looked splintered. 

He looked closer at Dorian's shirt and nearly cursed again. It was the wood. Some of the spoon had exploded.

“Lift up your shirt,” he said tightly.

Dorian looked at his hands, a little full at the moment, and looked momentarily lost as what to do with them. He looked like he might just drop the spoon pieces for a moment but then tried turning to go put them on the counter.

“Just,” Remy snatched them from his hands, “give ‘em here.” 

Dorian lifted his shirt up to his bellybutton.

Remy tossed the broken spoon onto the floor himself and lifted Dorian’s hand higher until he could see his chest. Looked ok. Sometimes it could be hard to see slivers though, or internal damage. 

“Does your skin sting at all?” he asked. “Is it uncomfortable to breathe?”

“No. Why?” Dorian asked, finally sounding a little worried.

Remy let Dorian’s hand drop and quickly ran his fingers over the cloth, hoping it didn’t start charging. Felt like just a little bit of dust.

The intense mix of adrenaline and relief was heady. He really thought he had killed the kid for a moment there. 

“Some of the spoon exploded. That’s why it cracked,” he gave Dorian a dark look, “What were you doing, fooling around like that?”

Dorian frowned, shifting uneasily on his feet.

Remy gave him a hard stare.

“I wasn’t fooling around,” he finally muttered, looking away.

“Hey,” he waited until the kid glanced back at him, “What were you doing then?”

“I-,” he took a step back and his eyes started bouncing around the room cause he couldn't seem to look at him. “I wasn’t fooling around! I just-” He started playing around with the hem of his shirt, “I didn’t want to turn everything off!” His face pinched up and his eyes started to shine with tears. He hunched up his shoulders a bit and slanted defensively away from Remy. 

Merde, he wanted to put some fear into the kid. Make sure he never did anything that stupid again. After all that adrenaline rushing in his blood he felt like he had to fight something. 

Fighting the kid wasn’t an option though. He needed him too bad. 

He sighed. 

If keeping Dorian around meant acting more like who he was before Magneto, then so be it. He could be more Cajun, more charming, more _soft_. Anything to keep the kid from running. 

“Ok,” he said, trying for gentle, “Listen, Dorian. You could have been hurt bad.”

Dorian turned more of his back to him. 

“Don’t keep those things in your hand. Trust me, it’s a bad idea,” Remy smiled even though the kid wasn’t looking, hoping it would further soften his tone, “Worry about being safe. Just keep your distance and douse it, yeah?” 

Dorian gave a half shrug and muttered, “Ok.” He sounded miserable.

Remy’s smile faded away as he studied the kid. His whole posture closed off and defensive. Hurt. “Hey.” 

Dorian kept his gaze on the hem of his shirt as he toyed with it.

A true tension was in the room now. He sighed lightly and dug a hand through his hair. “Listen, Dorian. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. Just had me worried is all. I thought I hurt you.”

It was hesitant, but after a moment Dorian finally looked Remy in the eye again. It wasn’t with the usual stars and awe though. He was still hurt. Still defensively closing himself off. 

He could probably wiggle him back open again with some choice words. 

“Thanks for helping me,” he said and admitted with some honesty, “I really do need you.”

Dorian gave him a long, searching look. 

Dorian was a terrible liar, but someday he could probably be a good poker player. Bluffing was one thing, but reading people was a gift. 

Dorian probably had it. He was observant. He took the time to _look_ at things and put them together. Someday, Dorian would be able to look at people like Remy and see their play. He’d put their bluffs together.

It’d be a bad day for him, because then Dorian would look at him and see somebody like his dad. A selfish liar, who was just using him for his powers. 

But it wasn’t today. 

He tried to ignore the tickle to what little conscience he had left when the kid just folded. When Dorian just looked at him with naïve forgiveness. 

“Ya just gotta be careful around me,” Remy said with a little bit more honesty and a little bit more desperation than was smart to show. 

Dorian nodded, but he really didn’t understand as he promised, “I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” he said as he went back to the gumbo, so Dorian couldn’t see his face. He threw some spices in and said with false cheer, “Come here. We need a spice test. Since ya didn’t get far on the Flamin’ Hot scale.”

“Chips shouldn’t taste like that,” Dorian muttered as he came closer.

A more sincere smile tugged at his lips. “Agree to disagree, petit.”

They haggled over the heat level, but Remy was careful to keep it light and give in easy. He didn’t even try with the okra again. He just plated it for himself, and ate it while they sat in front of the tv and let the gumbo simmer. 

It was almost a relief when Dorian fell asleep. 

He could scowl as darkly as he wanted while unsavory thoughts simmered in his mind. He didn’t have to smile as they bubbled up and dredged up with them feelings best left in the deep, murky parts of himself.

It wasn’t really a relief though, because the nature show the kid had put on wasn’t nearly distracting enough and the kid wasn’t awake to be a distraction. He needed a distraction, because it didn’t seem possible to push all the simmering things back down. He desperately wished he could just go down and find something to occupy himself with. A girl, a game, anything. His last failure was too close to even consider it though. 

He pulled out his cards and began shuffling, trying to redirect his thoughts. With Cajun spice in the air, it wasn’t possible to keep certain mental images of his head though. Like his Tante. 

He could almost still hear her as she clicked her tongue and said as she stirred up her gumbo, “I ask the Lord sometimes if he gave you brains, boy.”

She’d probably roll over in her grave when he gave the kid subpar, hotel kitchen, bland, okraless gumbo. That’s probably one of the smaller sins she’d noticed though. She’d probably been spinning at most of the stuff he’d been doing the past few years. 

Like getting mixed in with Sinister.

With an aggressive riffle of the cards he tried to banish those thoughts. 

The whole point of taking a night to quit running so hard was to relax. To tuck his frazzled ends back in and get some of the control that had been slipping every day back. Then maybe he could take some big risks, like being in another room from the kid. 

The longer he sat there with his cards and tried not to think the more frazzled he felt. Something in him just kept rubbing against the thoughts he pointedly _wasn’t_ thinking. It rubbed and rubbed, and then it just snapped. 

He gently shook Dorian’s arm until he grumbled sleepily.

“Dorian. I’m going to get ice,” he said as the kid burrowed himself deeper into the cushions.

He mumbled something unintelligible. 

“Just be a minute. Don’t let anybody in.” 

A grunt. 

Remy threw a blanket on the kid before he left. 

Did they need ice? No. But Remy just needed to be able to do something mundane like go use an ice machine without having to hold a twelve year old’s hand. 

Too bad he was so focused on _not_ exploding things he didn’t even notice anybody until they had him slammed up against the ice machine.

Rancid, but familiar breath wafted over his face as his hands got twisted back in steel grip and his aggressor cackled.

“Pah. Well, there’s my appetite gone,” he commented to the machine his face was being crushed against. “Tragically, it appears that you still don’t believe in personal hygiene, Sabretooth.”

“Could pick my teeth with your bones, Gambit,” the hairy beast growled. 

He said past a gag, “There’s an idea. Maybe just try brushing first. Honestly, it’s the little things that make a difference.” 

With the way his wrists were being held, he couldn’t touch anything with his hands. Luckily for him that didn’t seem to be quite as much of a requirement anymore. Honestly, it was more of an exercise to keep from setting a charge to the ice machine so the big lug could say his piece. 

“Little things, huh? Will yours come running if you start screaming? Or do you got him locked in a closet?”

Remy felt a sudden chill. There were few reasons that Sabretooth would know about Dorian. 

He said casually, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Listen, you can tell Magneto that if he wants the band back together he can come fetch me himself.” 

“Magneto’s AWOL. Went full on crazy. Having visions and everything.”

“So is this about a crush then? I’m flattered but-” his head was yanked back and slammed against the steel of the machine, “Ugh!”

Sabretooth said with glee, “It is about crushing, Gambit. I’m gonna-”

He was going to blow up if he didn’t get away from the ice machine. Beginning to glow in an all new magenta that promised twice the bang and pain that Sabretooth was used to. 

He snarled and slammed Remy’s head against the machine hard enough that he saw stars before frog-marching him towards the open doorway. 

Remy twisted his arms, hoping to break free of his grip, but Sabretooth was still ludicrously strong.

“Cute,” he laughed as they entered the hallway, Remy still trying to twist his arms free. He inhaled deep. “Ah, this way.”

An explosion sounded behind them, filling the air with a charred plastic and burned metal smell. 

Sabretooth growled in displeasure and stepped away quick. “Where’s the kid?”

“What kid?” Merde, he needed to get his arms free. He couldn’t do anything with Sabretooth holding him like this.

He was pulled close so Sabretooth could growl in his ear, “Make this easy and I won’t chew off his toes.”

Not close enough that he could catch the edge of the raggedly coat that Sabretooth wore. Oh, he could see it though. 

“That’s your go to threat? Toes? I’m sure this fictitious kid is trembling.”

It’d be great. His mangy, smelly coat turning a dangerous magenta. Whining high as it buzzed with energy, and the brute falling over himself to tear it off before it blew. 

He was just as surprised as Sabretooth when he heard the whine of a charge.

“Wha-” Sabretooth sputtered. 

Remy was flung forward, knees and suddenly free hands hitting the floor hard.

Sabretooth was trying to shrug his glowing coat off. 

“Mais!" Remy gasped, digging for his pack of cards.

Sabretooth glared murderously, one arm loose. “You’re _de-_ ”

Remy flung a series of charged cards at him and _ran._

Explosions sounded behind him, and at the big one he could even feel the pressure wave. 

People were starting to poke their heads out of their rooms. A lot of witnesses to go along with the camera footage. Great. 

“Dorian!” Remy yelled as loudly as he could as he turned a corner, “We’re leaving!” 

He was relieved to see Dorian’s disheveled head poking out into the hallway as well.

“Time to go!”

Dorian stepped out with their bag of essentials and super wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as Remy grabbed him by the hand and slung the bag over his own shoulder.

“Sabretooth,” he said as he pulled the kid into a run down the hall, “He’s big, ugly, and ugly. Also, he heals quick. Can’t let him catch us.”

“Is he-” 

An enraged roar and some screaming sounded off behind them and Dorian sped up of his own accord.

Remy led them to the stairway and released Dorian’s hand with a, “Go! Go!”, so he could press both hands up against the door and let it charge. From the little window he could see a coatless Sabretooth charging down the hall. He looked livid. 

Remy jumped the few stairs to the next landing and clattered down the next steps, catching hold of Dorian and pulling him along faster. He hoped Dorian wouldn’t trip. He knew he should have insisted on a ground floor room. 

The door above them blew, shaking the stairway, and Dorian tripped. Remy tried to haul him back up while keeping their momentum going. Dorian ended up cracking a knee against the last step and yelping. His power pulsed out. Just enough to knock Remy’s power out. And nothing else.

“Merde!” he spat.

The railing shook under his hand and the snarl from above was the only warning they got before Sabretooth dropped down in front of them on the landing, the skin on his shoulder still re-growing. 

“Guess I’ll eat his arm too,” he said with a savage laugh.

Dorian clutched at Remy’s hand with both of his, his eyes shining with pain and terror. 

He moved the kid back behind him and reached the bo staff in his coat as he said, “Is this really necessary? Look, mon ami, we can negotiate. Whatever they’re paying you I can get you double.”

Sabretooth cackled. “Right, rat. You’re richer than Sinister. That’s a good one. If you wanna negotiate, how bout this...you both come quiet and you get to go to Sinister in one piece.”

Hearing that name out of that mouth made Remy’s stomach twist up uncomfortably. 

“Well, I’m convinced,” he said with a harsh but sincere laugh as he slid out his staff. “Now why’d we agree to that? Doesn’t seem like the fairest trade.” 

Sabretooth grinned maliciously and licked at his fangs. “Doesn’t need to be. They’re looking for you, ya know.”

“Who?”

“The government. They’re _real_ interested in knowing where a kid who can stop a mutant’s powers is.” He leered. “So be smart, Gambit. Come quiet with me.”

“Not a step,” Remy warned, holding out his bo staff. 

“Come on. I mean, there’s Essex but then there’s the _government._ You think they’ll put you back together after they tear you apart?”

“Appreciate the head’s up,” Remy said. “I’ll consider it a favor and give you a chance to just walk away.”

He rumbled out a dark laugh. “Not an option.”

Remy grinned sharply. “If you really want theatrics, I’ll oblige.”

“I’ve always wanted to rip your face off,” Sabretooth casually commented before lunging with a fearsome growl. He got a bo staff to the chest and was knocked over the railing. He caught the edge of the landing and growled as Remy grabbed Dorian and pushed him through the door, slipping the bag back on his shoulder.

“Remember the plan if we get separated?” he asked.

Dorian nodded, but looked nervous.

“Use the elevator,” Remy turned back to Sabretooth as he got his feet back onto the landing, “I’ll find you.” 

Sabretooth charged and Remy ducked out of the way and took another flying leap down the stairs and to the next landing. 

Sabretooth was right on his tail. 

Remy was suddenly wishing he didn’t have a thing for trench coats when Sabretooth caught the edge of his as he tried jumping the next set of stairs. 

“Salaud!” he yelped as a ripping sound filled the air and his trajectory was thrown off. He hit the bottom step, badly, rolling his ankle and slamming onto the ground floor. 

He tried to get back to his feet quick. Sabretooth was kind enough to help him up by grabbing him by the scruff, of course that was after stomping a boot on his hand so he released his bo staff. Then he slammed Remy against the wall again, knocking his head harshly into the stone. 

He tried to blink away the black spots clouding his vision. 

People were yelling in the lobby. 

“Look at those peepers,” Sabretooth laughed as he wrapped a hand around his throat, “Kid did you a favor. You don’t look quite like the rat you are anymore.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he choked out, scratching at his bare wrist. Skin peeled underneath his nails, he felt blood, but Sabretooth just laughed like it tickled. Damn that healing factor.

“Sure Gambit.”

Remy pulled a card out and sliced it across Sabretooth’s wrist. Sabretooth flinched but then he just squeezed tighter. Everything was starting to go black.

“Get off!” Dorian shouted, sounding seriously freaked out. Then there was a solid, meaty _thud_ , and Remy wasn’t sure if that had been his head against the wall or something else. His vision came back in muted tones, but at least he could see Sabretooth yanking Remy’s bo staff out of Dorian’s hands. 

Sabretooth tossed the staff away and Dorian launched himself at the lug, small fists flying bravely but ineffectively. Sabretooth picked Dorian up by the front of his shirt and laughed in his face. Dorian grasped Sabretooth by his wrists and squeezed his eyes shut, maybe in terror or maybe in concentration. 

Sabretooth let out a surprised grunt as Dorian’s powers pulsed through him. Hair floated to the ground and Remy would have laughed at the shrinkage of musculature on Sabretooth, but he was still big. He still had Dorian in his grasp and he still had crazy bloodlust in his eyes. 

Remy unsteadily rose to his feet, using the wall liberally as the world tilted. 

“You think I need powers to throw you around, whelp?” he demanded with fangless teeth bared.

“Remy!” Dorian screamed, kicking his feet and trying to claw at Sabretooth’s hands. 

“Let him go!” Remy yelled hoarsely.

“Whatever you say, rat!” Sabretooth yelled as he flung Dorian away. 

The kid let out a mangled sound of pain as he hit the ground.

The bloody card that he had been senselessly gripping sparked in his hand, glowing with sudden magenta, and he let out a dangerous laugh. 

“You’re in trouble now,” Remy warned Sabretooth, knowing that his eyes were glowing red on black. 

Sabretooth snarled at him, but it seemed less intimidating now. 

Remy grinned cruelly at him and threw the charged card, a couple droplets of blood flying off as it arched towards Sabretooth’s head.

Sabretooth ducked away, but the explosion still knocked him into a stagger. 

He shook his head vigorously and with a growl he mindlessly charged. Right into a stream of charged playing cards.

The few bystanders still left in the lobby were screaming again. Of course, explosions and blood tended to inspire that reaction in people. At least it would discourage anybody from trying to be a hero and stopping their exit for the police. 

“No healing factor and you’re as weak as a kitten,” he complained as Sabretooth collapsed heavily, smoking and bleeding from explosive wounds. He kicked Sabretooth’s prone body as he passed to collect his bo staff. 

“Run fast, Gambit,” he wheezed out between death rattles, “We’re all right behind you.” 

“Hope you enjoy the view,” he said flippantly as he tucked it back into his coat.

He considered just finishing off the lug right then with another few cards, while his healing factor was off, but with the way he was wheezing he wasn’t getting back up. The kid probably didn’t need to see him just finish off somebody like that either. 

Not that he was watching at the moment. Dorian was slowly picking up their bag from where he’d dropped it on the floor, favoring one side. 

When he turned around he had tears gushing out of his eyes, looking ragged enough that Remy decided he’d been through enough trauma for the day. 

“Come on,” Remy said as he stepped to the kid’s side and took the bag. 

He took Dorian’s hand and tugged him away quickly as he glanced back at the slowly wheezing Sabretooth. He didn’t need that kind of nightmare fuel. 

Dorian clung to his hand as they exited, limping a little, and Remy thought that they must look like a pretty pathetic pair to the cameras. All bruised and limping and concussed. It’d make them look like easy targets. Not a good look. 

Whatever blood hounds they had hunting them would only run after them harder now. 

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said in a small voice as they stood in the parking lot and Remy quickly scanned for a getaway car. “I didn’t mean to use my powers on you.” 

He pulled Dorian forward, ignoring the limp that was his fault. Trying to ignore all the pain the kid was in because of him. 

It was really good that Dorian couldn’t look at someone like him and see his play yet. Because if he could, he would see something a lot worse than Remy’s father. 

“Don’t be sorry, Dorian.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I finally give the explosions that were promised in the tags and try to shake hands with evo's discrepancies in Gambit's iconic power-color and accent. 
> 
> Translations- (As always, could be off a bit since I don't know French/ Louisiana French at all)  
> Ca c’est bon! - It's good!  
> Tante- Aunt/ Aunty  
> Mais- Well then!  
> Salaud- Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
